


Hooked

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:44:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a series of close encounters with some titans, Armin reflects on his life with Eren and Mikasa</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hooked

**Author's Note:**

> really just gratuitous feelings and nostalgia \o/
> 
> Edit: Thanks so much to Eli for beta-ing!!! You are flawless <3

Armin hears Mikasa's voice first. Even through the pain, the other voices, the shouting, it startles him. He thinks—vaguely—as he's suddenly lifted from the ground, that he's never heard her sound so shrill.  _"Armin!"_

He tries to respond, but he can't breathe. His can feel his mouth open, lungs struggling to expand, to inhale, but it's not until a moment later when his body finally responds. He gasps, vision blurred and out of focus when he manages to see at all. There's Mikasa's face just above him, near and dirty, a long scratch across one cheek that meets the edge of her lips. It's oozing blood, but she doesn't seem to notice. The sky is dusky pink behind her head, sunset, and Armin's eyes start to close again.

"Eren!" Mikasa yells then, and Armin feels himself being moved—lifted and lifted and  _lifted_. There's a searing warmth against his back, and there's a deep, throbbing ache in one leg that is so horrifyingly prevalent Armin can feel his body rejecting the pain, numbing against the hurt, darkening his vision.

He doesn't know how much time has passed when he wakes up. He comes to long enough to hear someone—Eren?—say his name, and to get a glimpse of a dark room. He tries to say something,  _wants_  to say something, but no sound comes out. Armin's not even entirely sure if he manages to open his mouth. His eyes close.

#

There was a time, after Shiganshina, when Eren got sick. Maybe in another life Armin wouldn't have worried about it so much, but Eren was sick and couldn't keep his food down and Armin had a bad feeling that if he didn't get over it fast he would starve to death. Mikasa, who had grown so thin that her ribcage showed clearly beneath the skin of her chest in the moments she unwound the scarf from around her neck, saved part of her meals for Eren, which he always ended up throwing up.

It didn't take long for Armin to catch it, too. In between bouts of wakefulness, Eren would halfheartedly apologize, one eyelid drooping lower than the other, and Armin thought, once, when his stomach rumbled with such aggression that it started an ache from his torso to his chest, that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to go if the last thing he heard was Eren saying, "Armin, Armin, I'm  _sorry_."

But he didn't go. None of them did. Mikasa, who resorted to pulling the scarf up around her nose and mouth whenever she was in their hovel with the two of them, rubbed Armin's back and stroked the hair out of his face whenever he threw up. She made both him and Eren sleep under the one ratty blanket they had while she curled up against the opposite wall, as far away from them as possible.

They got better. They started to eat again, and Mikasa began eating her full portion of their rations when she saw that both Eren and Armin were keeping everything down. Armin thought, later, when Eren's face had regained some of its color, when he had regained some of his buoyant energy, that they were all three of them lucky. He didn't say that out loud, of course, because he knew it would upset Eren to hear him call their circumstances lucky, and Eren always had enough things to be upset about.

#

The next time Armin wakes, it's abruptly and completely, heart thudding in his chest. He tries to sit up but finds he's too weak, so he gasps and struggles and then there's a hand on his shoulder, saying, "No, Armin."

Armin tries to focus, heading lolling against his pillow and then pausing faced to the left. Mikasa's leaning over him, and it's her hand on his shoulder. She blinks, her expression concerned, as she sits back in a chair beside the bed.

"Where am I?" Armin asks, glancing around. The room is tiny and dark, with a square window on the wall behind Mikasa. "What happened?" He tries to sit up again, but this time it's a throbbing in his leg that stops him rather than Mikasa's restraining grip.

Mikasa's eyes flick down to the blankets covering Armin's lower half, and Armin quickly starts to push the thin blankets away.

"Wait," Mikasa says, moving forward and grabbing his wrists.

Armin starts to protest when suddenly the door to the room opens and both he and Mikasa look up.

"Armin," Eren says, closing the door behind him and hurrying forward. He sits down on the bed without preamble and Armin has to heave his leg out of the way with a groan so Eren doesn't sit on him.

"Why didn't you tell me he woke up?" he says, shooting Mikasa a hard look.

She ignores him, her hands still restraining around Armin's wrists.

"What happened?" Armin asks again, looking between the two of them. "What—" he swallows "—what happened…to me?"

Eren blinks, looking blank-faced for a long moment, before glancing at Mikasa, who barely meets his gaze before they both look away.

"You're alive," Mikasa says, but her hands are still tight around Armin's wrists, keeping him from examining himself. He struggles up and both Eren and Mikasa start forward, as though about to push him back down again, but he glares and they relax, just watching. Mikasa releases him.

Armin breathes hard through his nose, wondering why such a small movement has winded him, and he doesn't wait for either of them to stop him before he pushes the blankets down. His right leg is wrapped tightly in white bandages around his thigh, and the skin of his calf just below his knee is black and purple with bruises. He tries to move his leg, to bend it up and get a better look, but finds that he can't.

"Am—" He breaks off, looking between Eren and Mikasa, who are both just watching him. "Am I—" He doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to ask, and thankfully Mikasa says, "It isn't permanent."

"They had to remove some muscle," Eren adds. "There was damage."

Armin closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall and trying to remember. Everything before waking in his bed is a blur, on the fringes of his memory but just out of reach.

"You…"

Armin glances up at Mikasa's hesitancy. Her eyes are wide, and Armin suddenly notices that her hair is pulled back in a bun at the back of her head, accentuating the sharp jut of her cheekbones and line of her jaw. Armin wonders when she started to look so much older.

"You almost died," she says. "I almost—" She breaks off, pressing her lips together. When Armin continues to watch her, she adds, "Don't you remember?"

Armin shakes his head, looking down at his leg. "One of them…"

"Got you," Eren finishes, voice flat.

" _Almost_  got you," Mikasa amends, shooting Eren a look. "But you'll get better. You'll be fine."

"How long do I have to stay here?" Armin asks.

"Until you're better," Eren says, which isn't an answer, and Armin starts to say that, but Eren shakes his head to deter him, adding, "We don't know. We just have to see."

"We brought you some books," Mikasa says, gesturing to a pile of old books beside the bed.

Armin looks at them, realizing that he won't be leaving this bed anytime soon. His memory is still fuzzy and vague. He remembers their mission; meet up at the temporary base between Karanese and Shiganshina, try  _again_  to make it one step closer to Eren's basement. Clearly they made it to the base if his surroundings are any indicator.

_Are we safe here?_   _How many people did we lose?_  he wants to ask. But he's too scared of what the answer will be, wants for just a little while longer to be content that both Mikasa and Eren are here and alive before he thinks of anyone else.

"Armin," Eren says, and Armin meets his steady gaze with difficulty. "Get some rest."

He stands, and Mikasa squeezes Armin's hand before doing the same, following Eren to the door. Armin notices that they're both wearing fresh clothes, their maneuver gear gone, and knows that he must have been unconscious for a good while.

"We'll be back," Eren says, and in front of him, framed in the doorway, Mikasa nods.

"OK," Armin says, voice flat, and then the door closes and he's alone.

#

Armin remembers being lonely. Armin remembers losing everyone. Armin remembers thinking that he finally had an inkling of the kind of pain Eren and Mikasa went through, losing their families. Armin remembers thinking that at least they had each other. But then Eren would look at him, would say his name, and it was  _Eren_  and it felt as if Armin had known him for almost as long as he'd known his family, and he realized that he wasn't alone, that Eren and Mikasa, who had been there for Armin from the start, would still be there in the future.

Armin remembers finding his second family.

#

Armin goes on a lot of walks. There's so much muscle missing in his leg that even this is a constant struggle. He's given a cane and he pushes himself as far as he can, but the end of a corridor has never seemed as long as when Armin has to struggle down it with sweat beading along his forehead and his right leg almost useless beneath him.

Eren or Mikasa usually walk with him. Both of them try to stop him from going too far, Mikasa by slowing her gait and trying to change the subject, to get him to go back to bed, while Eren just says, "Stop, you're gonna fuck it up more if you keep pushing yourself."

Armin usually ignores them. It's hard to come to terms with being more of a burden than usual, and it's not until he stumbles and Eren or Mikasa have to steady him, that he finally gives in and allows them to lead him back to his room to sit down. He asks about their plans of attack while they walk, being unable to attend any meetings himself, and they're both usually quiet and vague about it, to the point where Armin wants to rip his hair out, to rage at both of them, to hack off his leg and just be done with it.

He sits in his room instead, shut up alone and reduced to reading and rereading the few, uninteresting books they have on the base. Eren and Mikasa visit when they have time, but they have far less of it to spare than Armin does.

#

Armin remembers the barracks. Armin remembers laying back-to-back with Eren in their shared bunk one night, listening to the breathing of their bunkmates around them. It was late, and Eren's back was warm and firm against his, and Armin didn't know who started, if maybe they'd started simultaneously, but one minute his eyes were drooping closed, and the next his hand had slid down the front of his shorts and gripped himself lazily.

It didn't take long to feel Eren shifting, to feel his elbow nudging against Armin's as he touched himself, and Armin was heady, dizzy laying in the bunk and thinking about Eren's hand down his own pants, stroking himself. He gasped, his own elbow bumping against Eren's and somewhere along the way, Eren's foot found its way between Armin's ankles and they were tangling up together, backs pressed together tight, and Armin came faster than he ever had before, heard the barest hint of a moan behind him and wanted to come all over again, wanted to come hearing Eren's voice just like that, wanted to live off of nothing but the sounds that came out of his mouth when he thought no one could hear him.

Armin was flushed and panting and dizzy and the inside of his pants was a mess, but Eren's back was warm and firm against his, and his feet tangled with Armin's and all Armin wanted to do was turn around and kiss him, touch him because being with Eren in that way was both a frighteningly new thought and also familiar and comforting, warm as Eren's back to his, and his foot between his ankles.

#

"Where have you been?" Armin asks when Mikasa enters his room one afternoon, eyeing her maneuver gear.

"Nowhere," she says. "I thought we could walk outside today."

Armin sets his book aside at once, and the corners of Mikasa's lips twitch up when Armin gets to his feet, walking toward her. He stopped using the cane when he got strong enough, and still Armin can tell he's getting stronger every day, rebuilding the muscle, but he's nowhere near being repaired, and Mikasa still has slow her pace considerably to stay even with him as they walk around the base. It's the first time in weeks Armin has been outside.

"It's too dangerous," Hanji had said when she examined his leg earlier that week, and Armin had broached the subject of exploring the area around the base while Hanji prodded at him. He didn't quite know what she was doing—didn't quite know if  _she_  knew what she was doing, but he didn't stop her. "We're in titan territory," she continued. "We're only holding them off by the skin of our teeth here, and with you unable to defend yourself…"

"Don't worry about me," Armin said as she rewrapped his leg and stood up. "I'll be fine."

Hanji gave him a flat look before suddenly smiling. "Maybe when you're better," she'd said evasively, then left with a wave as Armin tried to call her back again.

Armin looks at Mikasa's maneuver gear again, thinking that if anything unexpected were to happen, she'd been more than able to take care of things. They walk slowly around the dilapidated building, and Armin realizes that he's never seen it from the outside before; hadn't been conscious when he'd first arrived and hadn't been allowed out since.

"It's not very well-kept," he says, eyeing the bits of stone flecking the ground around the foundation.

"It hasn't been used in years," Mikasa says. She doesn't sound distracted, but her eyes are roving over their surroundings, peering through the trees on every side of them, tensing up as they round the corner of the building and then relaxing once she gets a view of the empty spaces in front of them.

"What sort of defenses do we have here?" Armin asks. It looks almost as though they're out in the open in titan territory; there's no discernable way to keep the titans away.

"Hanji hasn't said anything more than that we're well-protected," Mikasa says. "I hear she's been working on some new fortifications."

Armin frowns and squints toward the tree line, toward the large stone building of the base, trying to find anything out of the ordinary, but whatever Hanji's planned is hidden. They're both quiet for a moment, walking slowly, and Armin lets himself enjoy the cool gray afternoon and silence around them before he thinks to ask, "Where's Eren?"

Mikasa slants him a quick look. "With Levi."

"Ah."

There's more silence, bordering on uncomfortable which Armin hasn't experienced with Mikasa in years. He thinks he knows why, but he doesn't say anything.

"Armin," Mikasa says, and Armin's already braced himself for the rest when she says, "I know about you and Eren."

Armin glances at her, waiting for more, but Mikasa doesn't seem to have anything else to say. Armin swallows, glances at the ground, says "I'm sorry," almost reflexively.

He halts when Mikasa puts a gentle hand on his arm, keeping it there even when Armin has stopped walking, even if Armin isn't looking at her. "Armin, I'm not angry," she says, and her face, when Armin manages to look at her, seems to confirm this. She's not smiling, but her expression is soft, relaxed.

"I'm still sorry," Armin says. He bites his lips, trying to think of the best way to phrase what he wants to say. "We should have told you," he finally blurts out. "It's not…we—Eren and I—didn't keep it from you on purpose. I just…didn't know what to say."

A small smile does grace Mikasa's face then. "That's unlike you."

Armin blinks and glances away. "I didn't want you to feel left out," he says. "Because you aren't."

"I'm not," Mikasa agrees, but her tone makes Armin pause, makes him worry. He puts a hand over hers where it still rests on his arm, squeezing her fingers.

"Eren loves you," he says, which is true, which they both know. Then, after a pause, he says, "I love you."

Mikasa's face remains impassive, but the hand under Armin's tightens. She opens her mouth slightly, and then suddenly she breaks Armin's hold and turns around at the sound of rustling leaves.

She has blades in her hands in an instant, and Armin doesn't miss the way that she places herself directly between him and the tree line. He's watching, too, wondering if they'd be unlucky enough to encounter a titan the one day that he's outside, realizing deep down that luck has never been in his favor.

"Armin," Mikasa says, voice low and quiet. "Go stand against the building."

"No."

"Armin," Mikasa says, not looking at him, not relaxing her stance, and the snap in her voice is clear. "Go; you don't have gear, you're injured.  _Go_."

The rustling continues. Armin doesn't move. In the tops of the trees near them, he can see leaves shivering. Too high for any ground dwelling animals, too large a disturbance for a flock of birds. Armin's tensing. He can feel the ground trembling in steady, rhythmic beats.  _It's coming, it's coming, it's coming…_

It stops.

In front of him, Mikasa's head shifts minutely, her fingers flexing around her blades. After a long moment of silence, she slowly straightens, her back relaxing.

"Hanji's defenses?" Armin asks quietly.

Mikasa doesn't answer. She turns and puts one blade away, keeping the other drawn. In her free hand she grips Armin's arm and starts pulling him back toward the base. Armin struggles to keep up with her brisk walk but he doesn't complain, doesn't say anything. When they get inside Mikasa drops his arm, turns and looks back at the trees surrounding them once more. Then she closes and bolts the door behind them.

#

Armin remembers being seventeen. He remembers thinking that it was a miracle he'd made it that long as Eren dragged him out of his room and into a secluded part of the campground as he glanced around.

"Eren," Armin said, and there was a note of suspicion in his voice that he hadn't managed to rein back in time.

He knew Eren had heard it with the quick scowl that followed, but still he kept his grip on Armin's hand firm. "Come on," he said, as if Armin had a choice, as if Eren wasn't still bigger and stronger than him; filled out and lean, capable of dragging Armin wherever he wanted.

"Where are we going?"

Eren didn't answer, but it didn't matter when they rounded a copse of trees. There was a fire going in the waning light of sunset, and Mikasa straightened from her crouched position on the ground and said "Happy birthday, Armin," when he got nearer, pulling him into a hug.

Armin smiled, brushed the hair back from his face and looked at the two of them. There were others at the base who could have come to celebrate, who probably would have come if they were invited, but it felt better this way—just the three of them; the way it had always been.

"What are we doing here?" Armin asked. Eren and Mikasa shared a long look, then Mikasa stooped and picked something up from the ground.

The light from the fire reflected off an edge of glass and Armin frowned, stepping forward. "Is that—?"

"Wine," Mikasa answered.

"How—" Armin started to ask, then broke off, glancing at Eren. "I thought you disliked drinking."

Eren frowned. "Why would you think that?"

Armin wanted to mention Hannes and his buddies, wanted to remind Eren about everything he'd said about them when they were kids, but he thought better of it. He shrugged instead, looking away because it wasn't worth pressing his point to make Eren remember.

"Come on," Mikasa said. "Sasha went through a lot of trouble getting this, we should at least drink it." She hesitated with one hand on the stopper, looking at Armin. "That is, if you want to."

And Armin did want to because the night was cold and he was here with his best friends and he was seventeen—he had  _made it_  to seventeen. They all had, and that was worth celebrating. Mikasa passed the bottle to him once it was open and both she and Eren watched him take the first drink, looking at him intently from beside the brightly burning fire, as though waiting for something important to happen.

Armin took a hesitant sip, feeling the drink burn warm and heavy in his mouth and then down to his stomach. He blinked and smiled, and then there was Eren stepping forward and taking the bottle from his hand, taking an enthusiastic swig and dribbling the red liquid down his chin. He wrinkled his nose just a little when he swallowed, and Armin sat back in the grass as Mikasa took her turn.

It didn't take long for the others to join him on the ground, one on either side. Soon the wine was gone and Armin was feeling pleasantly warm from the drink and the waning fire and a friend on either side. They reclined back in the cold grass and looked at the expanse of sky above them.

"You know," Eren said loudly, gesturing vaguely upward with one hand. It dropped back down to the ground heavily, but he didn't seem to mind. "The sky…it goes beyond the walls, you know?"

Mikasa snorted, and this, more than anything else, had Armin laughing.

"No, no, hear me out!" Eren said, voice sharp, sitting up quickly. Armin tried to be quiet, even with Mikasa nudging his side with her elbow.

"As I was  _saying,_ " Eren muttered, slumping back down again. "It's all just one thing, you know?" He took a long, shuddering breath, and Armin turned his head to watch him. His eyes glowed glassy and bright from the light of the fire, fixed on the dark sky above them. He looked older, suddenly, aged beyond his years. Armin brushed his wrist with the back of his hand just to make sure that he was still there, that they were still seventeen and together and watching the stars.

Eren glanced at him, his expression still wide-eyed and entranced. "It's sort of like being outside already," he said. "Almost. It's the same sky, it's all one." He blinked slowly, turning away again.

It was quiet between them for a long time after that. At some point Armin took both Eren's and Mikasa's hands in his and held tight, and they both allowed this, gripping back. After a while, Mikasa slipped away, wishing Armin a happy birthday again and bidding them both goodnight while she turned toward her barracks. "We have an early start tomorrow," she added, a not-so-subtle hint that they shouldn't dawdle too much longer either.

"OK," Eren said, yawning, and then he was standing as well, stamping out the few glowing embers of their fire and pulling Armin to his feet.

He slung an arm around Armin's shoulders, and another around Mikasa's and for a moment they just swayed under Eren's influence in the dark night. "Happy birthday," Eren said, forehead nudging against Armin's temple.

Armin sighed, allowing Eren to pull him along as they started moving, and he thought,  _seventeen_ , he'd made it to seventeen, thinking again that it was a miracle. Then Mikasa broke away, heading toward her own bunk, and Eren said something that Armin missed, that made Mikasa smile and laugh and Armin looked between the two of them, old and young at the same time, world-weary and happy for a short time, and thought that no, his miracle had come much earlier than this.

#

It's late afternoon when Eren helps Armin back to his room after walking with him around the base one day. Armin gasps and falls back against the thin mattress, gritting his teeth against the pain and his own disappointment at being so weak. He puts a hand over his face, over his eyes, wishing Eren would just leave so he could rage at himself in peace, but there is no creaking floorboard, no sound of the door closing.

"Armin," Eren says.

Armin doesn't remove his hand. "What?" he mutters.

The bed dips when Eren sits down beside his hip. Armin tries not to be annoyed that he plans on lingering, that he isn't just going to leave, but ultimately fails. "You're getting better," he says.

Armin doesn't feel as if he's getting better at all. He feels as if he's reached a plateau that never seems to end. He remains silent, wishing Eren would take a hint. However, understanding subtlety has never been Eren's strongpoint.

"Does it hurt?" Eren asks then, voice quiet.

Armin hesitates, then nods once. Suddenly, there are fingers on his wrist, prying his hand away from his face. Armin makes a disgruntled noise and glares at Eren when his face comes into view.

"Do you want to do something?" Eren asks, eyes bright. "We can play a game, or…I don't know, we could read, or—"

"I'm tired," Armin says. "Thanks for helping me." His voice is flat even to his own ears, and it's noticeable enough that even Eren frowns at the tone. Diligently, though, he stands, turning toward the door.

"Well, you don't have to be a fucking baby about it," he mutters, almost too quiet for Armin to hear, and Armin can't stop himself from picking up the book closest to him and hurling it at Eren's retreating back.

The book clips one of Eren's shoulders and he whirls around while Armin struggles to sit up, breathing heavily. "Armin, what the fuck?"

"Do you think this is  _easy_?" he snaps, his leg throbbing in time with his quickly beating heart, and he wants so badly to stand up, to get out of bed and confront Eren face-to-face but he is so weak, so drained from his walk, that he knows it's not an option. "I can't do  _anything_ , I have to be walked around the base like a—like a  _dog_ , I'm  _useless_ , I'm  _weak_!"

Eren's eyebrows draw in at that, and he glances away. He hasn't gotten any less transparent as he's aged, and Armin's still able to read him as easily as he had when they were fifteen.

"Just go," Armin says, unable to handle Eren's guilt, unable to handle trying to comfort him just then. "It's not your fault."

He shifts, laying back against the bed and turning to face the wall. His bad legs throbs under his weight, but Armin ignores it, gritting his teeth at the pain and forcing himself to endure it, to use it to strengthen him.

Then the bed dips again and Eren's turning him back over. Armin nearly loses it, has already opened his mouth to tell Eren to get out, but then Eren's kissing him, and it's softer than Armin's expecting; hesitant enough to catch him off guard. Eren glances away when he pulls back, cheeks coloring. "I'm sorry," he says.

Armin watches him, eyes widening and suddenly his breath speeds again, and he grabs the front of Eren's shirt and hauls him forward. The next kiss is messy and sloppy and Eren's nose is smashed uncomfortably against his, but Armin doesn't care because there's a low ache in his leg and in his groin and there's nothing he wants more than to fuck Eren right then, and thankfully Eren seems to be of a similar mind, pushing Armin back to the bed and climbing on top of him, fumbling with their clothes and getting Armin naked in the most important places before he leans back and quickly starts to strip as well.

Armin grabs him again, gripping his waist and twisting, forcing him down to the bed. Armin uses the momentum to roll on top of him, his bad leg protesting the sudden movement, but he ignores the pain, focuses on quickly pulling down Eren's pants and then spitting onto his fingers.

Eren's eyes widen, but his freed cock twitches with interest when Armin reaches down and pushes a finger into him. He groans, stretching his head back, and Armin's blood is buzzing with the need to be inside Eren, to make him sweat and groan, to make his eyes cloud over and his stomach twitch as he takes his cock.

He fingers him quickly, watching Eren fall apart against the bed, against his hand, and Eren is panting by the time Armin pushes his cock into him, already rolling his hips down even with Armin holding his thighs to stop him. "Eren, wait."

"Come on, Armin," he says, putting his hands on top of Armin's and squeezing.  _"Armin."_

Armin tries to remember the last time he's ever denied Eren anything as he pushes forward. Eren groans, strains to widen his legs with his pants still around his thighs and looks between them to where Armin is pulling out again, wrapping a hand loosely around his own cock and just keeping it there.

"Eren," Armin says. There's sweat beading on his forehead, his leg already aching and trembling as his movements grow faster. "Is this—is this OK?"

Eren meets his eyes, looking serious, and Armin slows for a moment, unsure. "Come here," Eren says. He puts a hand in Armin's hair and pulls him forward, and the sudden shift makes Armin gasp against Eren's mouth as his leg gives a painful throb.

"Ah, Eren, wait." Armin's warm—too warm—warmer than when they normally do this, and his vision is hazy. He's distracted between the pain and Eren clenching down on him, on Eren's mouth against his cheek.

"I don't—" Armin thrusts forward once more, and suddenly his leg seizes. He cries out, slaps a hand against the wall. "Shit, ah,  _damn it_."

Eren just watches him for a moment, mouth barely open, eyes wide. He says, "Hey, Armin, it's all right."

"No," Armin says, shivering at the pain, at the fact that he's getting soft because of it, then Eren sits up, sits back, Armin's cock sliding out of him.

Armin grits his teeth, drops his gaze, but Eren's kissing him a moment later, soft and hesitant, coaxing Armin's head up to meet him, and Armin wonders for the hundredth— _thousandth_ —time how Eren manages to treat him like this, different from the way he treats anyone else; gentle, careful.

Armin arches up when Eren gets to his knees. Eren maneuvers them around, his lips still warm against Armin's; just slow, sweet presses. Then Armin's back hits the bed and Eren breaks away and leans over him.

"No," he says. "Eren, I want—"

"I know," Eren says. He leans back, and Armin realizes that he's taking off his pants so he can clamber onto Armin's lap. "Relax, would you?"

Armin flushes, already embarrassed at his mistrust of Eren's understanding of what he needs, but then Eren is sinking down, teeth gritted until he's seated in Armin's lap, and Armin can't breathe, can only feel how tight Eren is, how beautiful he is undressed and straddling Armin's lap, and Armin tries to move, push up, but he's immobilized by his gimp leg, can only say,  _"Eren,"_  and it comes out as more of a whine and less of the directive he intended.

Eren's eyes focus gradually, coming to look at Armin. He rolls his hips back, slowly, just watching Armin's expression, and Armin's used to the way Eren looks angry even when he's relaxed, used to the line between his eyebrows even when he's happy, but that doesn't stop him from reaching up and trying to soften his expression, smooth out his puckered brow.

The scowl slides off of Eren's face, but he looks quizzical when Armin pulls his hand back. He runs his palm up Eren's side, toes curling when Eren raises his hips and then sinks back down and he's so  _hot_  and Armin digs his fingers into Eren's side. "I don't like…when you're upset," he says.

A stillness, a beat of silence. Eren holds himself taut, body quivering, and Armin doesn't think he'll ever get sick of looking at Eren, of his stomach and chest and thighs and cock curving toward his belly. "Eren," Armin says because suddenly it's imperative he say something, tell Eren about this feeling burning in his chest because it's Eren and Eren's the one he's told everything to since he could remember, and this is  _important_.

"Eren—"

Eren's lips silence him. Eren leans down and kisses him and grinds his hips back onto Armin's cock. The hot, leaking tip of Eren's cock rubs along Armin's stomach at the same rate his tongue pushes into Armin's mouth and he's clumsy, overexcited, and Armin almost smiles into the kiss because it's so  _him_.

Armin comes first, comes when Eren's movements speed up and the bed creaks and there's spit dribbling down his chin. He comes gasping and moaning and twitching, trying to thrust up but unable to with his gimp leg, and part of him wants to be angry about it, but he finds it difficult with the uncurling of his stomach, and Eren's mouth sucking on his neck and hand pulling at his hair.

He's still twitching, gasping, when Eren sits back, and Armin thinks he might be able to come again with Eren's quick, jerking movements up and down, impaling himself and groaning every time. He wraps a hand around his cock and Armin digs his hands into Eren's hips, gritting his teeth and watching until Eren spills himself all over his hand with a shout, curling forward and dripping come onto Armin's stomach.

He slumps forward, breathing into Armin's neck, shifting his hips until Armin slips out of him.

"Eren," Armin tries again, but Eren just pushes his head against Armin's neck.

"I know," he says. He leans up to plant a kiss against Armin's cheek, then nestles back down against his neck, breathing slowly.

#

Armin remembers being twelve and terrified. The military was the only option he had left, and he was determined to take it, determined not to fail, determined to redeem himself in the eyes of his friends who deserved someone stronger, more valuable,  _better_  than him. He knew then that the most likely use for him would be to die in the place of someone who was more important. He was disposable; another soldier to die for the cause. He pushed the watery stew around his bowl one night and thought that he was the best option, really; no one would be waiting for him back home. He wouldn't be missed.

Next to him, Eren was talking quickly, looking at Mikasa, and Armin felt his stomach clench uncomfortably, his throat tighten. They would miss him, he thought. But they'd get over it. Armin could never wish death upon either of them, but the thought of being separated from them, of being somewhere they weren't, even in his death and their life, made him feel ill. A hand clapped hard on his shoulder and Armin gritted his teeth and lowered his head.

"Armin?" Eren asked.

Armin schooled his expression and looked up, taking a bite of his stew and forcing it down his throat. "Yeah?"

Mikasa was watching him steadily. Something uncertain flickered across Eren's features. His hand was still on Amin's shoulder. Eventually, he said, "Are you listening?"

Armin took another bite of his food and swallowed painfully, smiling tightly and telling himself not to cry, not here, not a _gain_. "Yeah, go on."

And after a moment, Eren did.

**#**

Armin's ready when the alarm comes. He'd heard the yelling, felt the vibrations, so when Eren bursts into his room already in his gear and looking determined, he's nearly finished with his own equipment.

"Eren," he says, tightening a belt around his thigh.

Eren rushes forward, grabbing the belts on Armin's hips and jerking him forward, helping tighten them. He spins Armin around a second later, hands flying over his back, around his butt, pulling on the belts there, too. There's nothing sexual about the action, but the fact that it's Eren has Armin's nerves ratcheting tighter. He spins around when Eren grabs his shoulder, and then they're face to face.

Eren's breathing hard, a scowl set on his face. Armin reaches forward to grab his wrist.

"Are you all right?" Eren asks.

"Do I have the option not to be?"

Eren doesn't answer right away. He's looking at Armin because they both know the true answer to that. They've lost enough soldiers—too many soldiers—that they can't allow people to sit out. Everyone has to fight.

"I'm fine," Armin says, and Eren doesn't argue, just takes his hand and drags him out of the room. Mikasa pulls up short just as they exit, then Eren's grabbed her hand too and he's dragging them both down the hall.

There are more people running around them, still putting on their gear or shouting out as they head toward the doors. Eren pulls them through the exit and then he drops their hands. He runs away from them, towards the trees, and Armin can see titans, at least a dozen, peeking out from above the leaves.

Armin can hear a call from above, Levi's voice saying, "Eren, go!"

And then Eren's transforming, and Mikasa has left Armin's side to run toward the trees, and Armin hesitates for only a moment before following after her.

He takes up a position in the trees and almost immediately he finds Hanji. He perches beside her, sees that she's working furiously with a piece of machinery attached to a tree branch.

"What can I do?" Armin asks, and Hanji hardly looks at him before handing him a wire and saying, "Hold this tight."

Armin does as instructed, following the orders Hanji snaps at him as she works on the equipment. He realizes that this must be the protection that's kept them safe all this time, which has clearly malfunctioned, but he doesn't ask questions, too afraid of being a distraction.

Hanji doesn't flinch at the sound of screaming, but Armin can't help but look up and around, trying not to focus on the individuals he sees dying, trying to ignore the sound of flesh and crunching bone. Eren's made his way into the forest now, and is doing his best to fight through the waves of titans, but more of them seem to appear out of nowhere the longer they're there, the longer Hanji works, and Armin knows they'll soon be overrun.

"Armin!" Hanji says, and Armin focuses on his tasks, puts his hands where Hanji instructs him.

For a while he is wholly focused, trying to figure out what Hanji's doing or fixing so he can be of better use, but the triggers and levers mean nothing to him; don't solidify into anything he can understand, so he just tries to be as helpful as he can. It takes the sound of another scream, much closer than before, for him and Hanji to look around.

There's a quick flash of movement just in front of him, someone flying by, moving too quickly for Armin to recognize, but a moment later it doesn't matter. A titan lumbers forward, peering around the trunk of their tree and then the flash of movement is dead, disappeared into the titan's mouth and Armin feels a familiar but no less unsettling mixture of regret at the death and relief at the sight of light hair—not Mikasa, not Eren.

The titan's still there, and Hanji's hands are deep in her equipment, clearly distracted. She looks at Armin, who swallows, feels his stomach clench, a faint feeling of nausea creeping up his throat. He nods.

He disentangles himself as quickly as his shaking hands can manage, anchoring himself to a nearby tree and taking off. The mouth of the titan gapes below him, and Armin can still see the remains of the person before him on its tongue. He misses it by a slim margin, feels the scrape of teeth against the sole of his shoe and nearly panics, but then he's in the trees again and there's the nape right there. Armin sets his hooks in just as the thing turns around.

He sees the open mouth and knows he can avoid it, but then a hand comes up toward him and Armin knows he's not fast enough, doesn't have a good enough plan formed to make it out alive. He's unnerved, tries to dodge even when he knows it's no use, and he can feel the whoosh of air as the hand closes in on him. Then suddenly it's gone, and Mikasa is there instead, watching the titan's fingers fall to the forest floor. Armin retreats back into the trees and Mikasa gets around to the nape of its neck like it's nothing, which to her it probably isn't.

The titan falls. Mikasa looks up at him and then moves on. She knows him well, knows that Armin can hardly stand being saved, let alone being coddled afterward. He doesn't have much time to dwell on it because suddenly there's a buzzing in the air, a noise high-pitched enough that Armin can hardly hear it, can only feel the vibrations and the discomfort.

From nearby, Hanji whoops, and suddenly the remaining titans are retreating. Armin relaxes against his tree, watching them go, his heartbeat slowing down. He glances toward Hanji, that almost-sound still ringing in his ear, in the air, and wonders about how she even knew the titans would react to something like that.

Then the titans are gone, and suddenly he's helping to pull Eren out of his titan form, and the remaining troops are returning to base. Armin feels his bad leg twinging with every step. Mikasa's focus is on Eren, and Armin is grateful for her distraction because the taste of failure is bitter in his throat, and Mikasa's acknowledgment would only make them both remember.

#

Armin remembers kissing Eren. It didn't happen often when they were kids, but occasionally when they were overexcited, when they were playing a game, when Eren was trying to comfort Armin, they would kiss. Later, during training, it was easy for Armin to realize that those hadn't been kisses, not really.

Later, with Eren's hands in his hair and his breath trembling hot in Armin's mouth, his body surging up to pin Armin against the bed and press him down, Armin realized he had never known a real kiss until then. For there was nothing quite like Eren's tongue in his mouth, Eren's nose squished against his, Eren's breathy moans and sighs fed right into Armin, that Armin had ever experienced. It was the first time they'd ever done this, and Armin lamented briefly all the time he spent doing anything else.

Then Eren was pulling at his hair, sinking teeth into Armin's lower lip and tugging, and Armin couldn't lament anything, couldn't do anything but moan and rub himself eagerly against Eren's thigh between his legs, stunning himself with his eagerness, with his complete inhibition, with his all-consuming desire for every part of Eren, everything he could give and everything he'd allow Armin to take.

Armin twined his fingers in Eren's hair and pulled him impossibly closer, pressed their chests together and whined at how hard Eren was all over, at how warm and solid and excited he was, with his hands roving across any and every part of Armin he could get, his mouth wet and sloppy against Armin's cheek and jaw and throat when Armin broke away to breathe, finding it impossible with the smell of Eren hot and heavy around him, with Eren's eyes meeting his, his face feverish.

Armin had never seen him like this before. Armin—who had seen Eren in every state—had never seen Eren like  _this_ ; flushed and panting and wholly focused on pleasure, on wanting Armin. They had done things all out of order; Armin knew what Eren sounded like when he came, how his back tightened and trembled, but the feeling of Eren's lips was new, the tongue in his mouth and on his collarbone was new, the idea of Eren being everywhere, in his mouth, over his body, pushing him down, letting Armin wrap around him, was wholly unfelt before.

The idea that Armin was seeing new parts of Eren, that he was discovering more ways to be with him, more ways for them to be together, made his stomach clench, made a low ache twitch between his legs and he surged up, kissing Eren again and reveling in the fact that Eren pushed right back against him, that he returned the kiss with interest and that his lips moved soft and messy against his.

They stopped when they heard the sound of voices. Eren sat up, pulling Armin up, too, gripping his arms and just looking at him. Armin looked at the curl of Eren's lips when he smiled, red and glistening. Armin returned the grin with interest.

**#**

They fall into the familiar scene of waiting by Eren's bedside when they get back to base. Both he and Mikasa sit beside the mattress and wait, and it's not long before Eren wakes, blinking slowly.

"How do you feel?" Mikasa asks, leaning forward and resting her hands on the bed beside him.

Eren sits up, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Fine," he says, then adds with a scowl, "Stop worrying."

Mikasa just pats his hand and stands up, and immediately Eren looks wounded, opening his mouth to speak. "I have to meet with Levi," Mikasa says. "He wanted me to come immediately, but I stayed with you instead."

Eren sinks back in his bed, sulking. Mikasa meets Armin's eyes as she passes by his chair and leaves the room. Armin slides over to take her vacated seat, sitting closer to Eren.

"Do you feel all right?" he asks.

Eren just groans, sitting up a bit straighter. "Not you, too. I'm fine, Armin. The transformations don't affect me the way they used to."

Armin shrugs, looking down at his knees. Silence falls between them, and Armin looks toward the small window at the blue sky outside.

"I saw," Eren finally says.

Armin hesitates, then slowly turns to look at him. "Saw what?"

"Saw you almost—" He swallows, his face hardening, and his rage seems to transform him into someone younger for a moment. "You've got to be more careful."

Armin sits back in his chair, and suddenly Eren is pushing the covers back and throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

"Hey, Eren!" Armin says, putting his hands on Eren's stomach to push him back down, but Eren just grips his wrists and pulls him to his feet. "What—" Armin starts, and then breaks off when Eren's arms wrap around him, his cheek pushing against Armin's neck.

"You've got to be careful," he says, hands running through Armin's hair and down his back, sending a shiver up Armin's spine that's quelled when Eren's arms tighten around him, bringing them together. "Armin…"

"Eren…Eren, I'm all right." Armin hesitantly wraps his arms around Eren's shoulders, surprised when Eren makes a small noise and pulls him even closer. It's been a long time since he's seen Eren like this, since he's seen Eren  _this_  worried about him.

"Armin," Eren says again, and then Armin feels lips against his neck, skimming up to his jaw, one of Eren's hands trailing across the straps of his gear, following one down his stomach to his belt. "Can I…" Eren trails off, pulling back slightly to look at Armin with wide eyes. His hand moves lower, slowly. "Can we…"

"OK," Armin says, breath hitching because Eren's hand is down the front of his pants before he can finish speaking, pawing at him roughly, skating his knuckles up Amin's cock before wrapping a hand around him, starting a quick twitch of pleasure in Armin's stomach.

Armin makes a small noise, leaning into Eren's touch, curling a hand around the back of his neck and holding on as Eren grips him roughly, tugging on him and mouthing at his neck, all the while rocking his hips against Armin's thigh.

"Help me with this," Armin says, breaking away, and Eren groans, but immediately starts to help Armin remove his gear when prompted, taking the opportunity to grab Armin's ass and generally be more of a hindrance than a help, running his hands across Armin's chest and rubbing a hand between his legs when Armin tries to undo the belts around his thighs.

Armin groans, knees going weak, and then Eren's pulling off his own gear with difficulty, falling back to the bed and kicking off his shoes, unwrapping the straps around his legs and pushing his pants down. Armin watches while he divests himself of the rest of his clothes, feeling his stomach tighten in anticipation, feeling his nerves still jangling thinking of his close call earlier that day.

When Eren's naked, he sits up on the bed, completely unashamed, grabbing Armin's waist and pulling him into his lap. Eren breathes hotly against Armin's cheek, groaning when their cocks align and Armin rubs a hand through Eren's dark hair and watches his eyelids close, lashes fanning across his cheekbones.

Armin leans in, brushing their mouths together, and Eren sighs when Armin presses a tongue into his mouth, grabs Armin's waist tighter and rocks them together. He pulls back to bite at Eren's lip and opens his eyes when Eren suddenly pulls away.

He starts to ask what's wrong, but then both of Eren's hands reach up to push Armin's hair back from his face, to cup his cheeks. For a long moment Eren just looks at him, that little line between his eyebrows appearing again, his eyes raking over Armin's face. Armin lets him, allowing himself to look at Eren, too, to examine the sharp jaw and long nose, his overgrown haircut and tight lips.

Suddenly, Eren smiles, and Armin's thoughts are scattered by Eren looking at him like that, the way he's looked at him for as long as Armin remembers, the way Armin hopes Eren will always look at him. Eren says, "Armin," and the word is barely out of his mouth before Armin kisses him again.

It's fast after that, too fast for Armin to track, and he doesn't know when they've gone from kissing to Eren's fingers inside him, mouth around his cock, doing his best to make Armin come as fast as possible until Armin stops him. He gets onto his hands and knees instead, pressing his head against the hard mattress and breathing in the smell of Eren clinging to the sheets.

When Eren groans and pushes into him, Armin clenches his fists, breathing fast against the burning stretch of it. It's always overwhelming, being with Eren like this, after everything they've been through, everything Armin knows about him. Sometimes, during hazy mornings before Armin's fully awake, he thinks that being with Eren feels like he's bringing all the parts of himself together because at the end of the day, that's what Eren is—an extension of himself. His oldest and best friend.

Eren's hand is in his hair, gripping tight, forcing his head back, and Armin remembers being seven years old with Eren pulling his hair— _"Ow, Eren, that hurts!" "Sorry, sorry!"—_ when Armin taught him how to braid ( _"Like this, no you have to—yeah, like folding, like that!"_ ) and feeling Eren's fingers clumsily stroke his head. Armin remembers peeking up at the concentrated look on Eren's face, the scowl as he tried to get it right.

"Armin," Eren had whined— _did_  whine— _is_  whining—and then there are Eren's teeth scraping across his neck, Eren heavy and thick inside him and Armin remembers being eleven and hungry all the time and forgetting what it felt like to feel  _full_  to feel  _stuffed_ , and he gasps against the sheets and squeezes his eyes shut.

His body rocks with Eren's movements, Eren, whose hands—strong hands, long-fingered, and Armin remembers watching those hands flip through pages of his books, eat small, molding loaves of bread, do up the straps on his maneuver gear, hold swords, kill,  _die_ —wrap hard around his waist and then suddenly he's gone.

Armin remembers feeling empty, feeling the tightness in his chest that ached with loss, with a raw, broken sadness for most of his life—with confusion of things lost and family dead, and there's wetness on his face when Eren turns him over, but Armin opens his eyes and realizes it isn't from him.

"Eren…" he reaches a hand up, touching Eren's cheek—thin, sharp cheekbone, different from when they were six and happy and had enough to eat, when Eren was flushed and full and young and beautiful in a more undiluted way than he is now _—_ and strokes shaking fingers through the warmth of his tears.

Then Eren is back inside and Armin remembers feeling full, Armin remembers feeling alive, Armin remembers Eren smiling, Armin remembers Mikasa laughing, Armin remembers being happy, Armin remembers, remembers, remembers…

"Eren," he says again, and when Eren leans down and kisses him, his tears dribble onto Armin's cheeks and into his hair, his tongue pushes heavy into Armin's mouth and his breathing is hitched.

Then Eren pulls back, and he bites his lip, his face screwed up. Eren moves his hips, slowly, watching Armin's face as he reaches forward and touches him. Eren drags his fingertips across the marks left by his straps and harnesses and Armin wants to do the same, wants to touch him back, but Eren is clean, Eren is unmarked, Eren is pure, Eren is pure, Eren is  _pure_.

Armin cries. Armin thinks he should be used to it by now, but he cries and then Eren leans down to press his cheek against Armin's and everything is wet and hot and Eren makes small noises in his ear, sometimes his name, sometimes not, and Armin remembers Eren's voice when it first began to deepen and Armin didn't want to say anything about it, didn't want to point out the odd cracks that appeared in his speech, but sometimes he teased. Sometimes Eren would say a word with the second half an octave higher than the first and he would blush and scowl and Armin would laugh and sometimes when Eren told him to knock it off, when he reluctantly let himself laugh too it felt like being young, it felt like being home, and sometimes Armin could forget death and the fishhooks it had them on, and sometimes Armin could think of Eren and not feel a preemptive dread at his loss.

Armin remembers dying. Armin remembers hot steam and a dimming light as he reached, reached, reached, for what he didn't know because he'd thought he was done, that he had thrown in the towel, that he had swallowed the hook and was letting the line carry him along, but then Eren was there and there was light and he fell and Eren died.

And Armin remembers the things that he'd lost; remembers feeling hopeless. Armin remembers wanting to die but not knowing how; remembers looking to Eren for everything—for life, for death, for his dreams and Eren giving him everything…

" _Eren."_

He comes with Eren's hand around him, with his and Eren's tears still hot against his neck, and Eren says his name in a small, broken voice as his hips stutter and then slow down, panting into Armin's ear. Eren falls on top of him, and he's heavy and warm and Armin doesn't say anything, just runs a hand up Eren's back, pressing his fingers into the rigid muscles across his shoulders.

It's quiet. Armin wipes his face with the back of his hand and then runs his fingers through the hair on top of Eren's head. He's drifting, looking out the window at the expanse of darkening sky, feeling Eren breathe against him.

Then Eren says, "I don't want you to leave me," and Armin freezes.

He swallows, his throat feeling tight again, and he hates the way that Eren doesn't look at him, that he keeps his head tucked under Armin's chin. He hates the way his words feel hollow and empty on his tongue when he says, "I won't," because he can't promise that, not in this world, and he hates that they both know that, hates that the only thing Eren's ever asked of him is the only thing he doesn't know how to give.

#

Armin remembers meeting Eren for the first time. Armin remembers watching him be beaten up by the kids who had bullied him. Eren was thoroughly trounced by the time they lost interest in the two of them and scurried away. Armin remembers Eren swearing and getting to his feet, wiping the blood from his nose on the cuff of his shirt. He looked at Armin curiously, and Armin straightened up, waiting to see what would happen next because someone who was so willing to get into a fight wasn't someone he could feel comfortable with.

"Why'd they beat you up?" Eren had asked, looking Armin up and down.

"They think I'm a heretic," he said, loudly, defiantly as he could muster even with his knees shaking and his left eye throbbing from a particularly hard elbow to the side of his face. He watched Eren for a reaction because if he was going to hit Armin, too, he would be ready for it this time.

But Eren didn't move to hit him. Eren didn't have much of a reaction at all. He just tilted his head to the side and said, "Why?"

Armin hadn't expected that, so he answered honestly before he could reconsider. "Because I want to see what's beyond the walls."

Armin has always thought that Eren's smile at that moment, breaking across his bloody, dirty face, is still one of the most amazing things he's ever seen. Eren had stepped forward at that, grabbing Armin's hand as easily as if they'd done it a million times before.

"What do you think's out there?" he'd said, eyes shining, his injuries seemingly forgotten as he began to pull Armin toward the city, too excited to even wait for an answer. "Come on, let's go talk."

That was the first day they'd spent together, and Armin thinks that no matter how long he lives, he'll always remember the way Eren looked at him from the start, with something akin to wonder, finally finding someone who wanted more than what they had, wanted to see beyond the walls. Armin thinks, as they slowly get redressed, leaving their gear in heaps on the floor, that no matter how long he lives, he will never be free of the hook Eren caught him on from the start. Armin thinks, as he and Eren leave the room, Eren's hand absently running through Armin's hair to give it some semblance of order, that he can't think of a time in his life that he ever wanted to be free of Eren. Armin knows he never will.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for taking so many liberties with anti-titan technology i'm trash


End file.
